Healing
by Dibbii
Summary: Post 3.21: After they got rid of the Nogitsune, Stiles needs to recover from his injuries. Being in hospital can be pretty boring, but a certain strawberry-blonde girl tries to make his stay as pleasant as possible. Not leaving him for a second to make up for her inability to help him when she was needed the most, something more blossoms. It's a slow burn, but it definitely is one.
1. Awake

Hey there,

this is my first Stydia fanfiction and my first written in English. I'm not a native speaker, I'm from Germany and I'm trying to improve my writing skills with every sentence that I write. But let's stop with the blabbing about me and my issues and come to the more important things.

This fanfiction is called _Healing_ and the plot for it just popped up in my mind one day. Season 3B was a huge pain for every Stiles stan and therefore for me, too. I started to write this fic after watching 3.21 and I won't include anything happening after this episode, besides maybe a few bits and pieces. I don't know, what will happen to Stiles (yet), but it won't matter to this story.

I've been thinking about writing an emotion-centered Stydia-fic for a while now and just when the episode aired, I got an idea I could work with. I don't like that a lot of questions are still unanswered between the two and, to be quite honest, I'm pretty upset about that. If you want me to write a meta about this, ask me. But right now, this would go beyond the constraints of this story introduction.

I will do my best to please your expectations and maybe even surpass them. I have a lot in mind for this story and I will try to keep this a constant work in progress. But well, let's get to the formalities and then to the fun part, right?

* * *

**Name:** Healing

**Rating:** T, maybe later M, I'm not sure about that yet

**(Longer) Summary:** _After they got rid of the Nogitsune, Stiles needs to recover from his physical and mental injuries since the Nogitsune didn't go gentle. Being in hospital can be pretty boring most of the time, but besides his best friend Scott, especially one certain strawberry-blonde girl tries to make his stay as enjoyable as possible. Not leaving him a second to make up for all those years where she thought he wasn't worth a single thought, something more blossoms. Lydia wants to do it right. It's an unexpected, slow burn, but it definitely is a burn. And this time, it's a good one._

_**Disclaimer:**__ This story is mine, everything Teen Wolf related isn't._

* * *

"It's good to be human again."

The words float lightly through the air of the hospital room, almost not audible. The voice is creaky, weak. As if it hasn't been used for days, maybe even weeks.

"I mean, apart from the fact that no part of my body is healthy right now, it's still better than not knowing what I'm doing at all."

A small smile flashes across Stiles' face. The fraction of a second later it's gone again. Every few minutes waves of pain attack his body. Every movement still hurts.

"You'll be better soon," Lydia replies, sitting at the bottom end of the bed, counting the creases in the bedding. Her strawberry-blonde curls bounce at the slightest motion. Stiles observes them with tired eyes, giving his mind something to do. Everything else is memorized already. The wardrobe made of wood to his left, the mint green walls with a TV attached to the wall at the opposite side. The beige colored floor. The two chairs and the small, circular table beneath the TV. The huge window to his right with white curtains and a good view of most of Beacon Hills. The small lamp on the bed stand next to him, now housing a glass of water and a few pills in a box, too.

It has been four days since Stiles was separated from the Nogitsune once and for all and it had taken his friends a lot of effort and blood and nerves to get him out alive. But here he is, bruised and broken, but with a healthy, beating heart. His memories are vague, only snapshots of what happened flash through his mind from time to time but he tries to avoid thinking about them for now. Stiles knows, he has to overcome what happened to him, he knows a lot of long talks with a therapist are lying ahead and he knows all of it won't be pleasant. But he also knows his friends will be at his side. Being awake for a day now, he has seen all of them already. His dad had sat at his bedside until he had woken up and after making sure that his son was okay – according to circumstances – he had made room for the few other people he cared about. Scott was the first to say hi to him, then Lydia. The rest visited him this morning – Isaac, Allison, Kira, Scott's mom and even the twins and Derek. After lunch, Lydia knocked on his door again and hasn't left ever since.

"How do you feel?" Lydia asks, biting her lip in her very own Lydia-way, and Stiles can detect the concern in her eyes. It warms his heart to see how much she seems to care about him and it breaks his heart to see her hurt.

"I'm fine," Stiles replies, trying to smile again, but fails.

"No," Lydia says, shaking her head. "Tell me the truth."

"I'm fine," he repeats. _As long as you're here, I'm fine._ "I need my body to heal and I'm bound to talk about what happened to be able to remember what happened because everybody wants me to remember what happened and after talking about what I remembered that happened I have to get over everything that happened and what I remember by then, but right now I feel okay."

There isn't a single second where Lydia seems confused, even when he's wording things the way he's usually wording them. A small smile washes over her features, almost not noticeable, but Stiles doesn't miss it. There is only very little he misses when it comes to Lydia Martin herself.

"So, what's going to happen to me here?" he asks, using the h-word again on purpose while trying to ignore the lump in his throat, that hasn't been there a moment earlier.

Lydia takes a breath, glances shortly out of the window. A few seconds pass by, until she answers.

"You were right with what you assumed earlier," she began slowly. "You'll have to get through a lot of talks with a therapist and you can't refuse. Right now, the doctors think you were abused by a psychotic man who – wondrously – left you at the warehouse and is on the run now. There is a criminal party investigating currently but there's no chance they'll find anything important, obviously. Your injuries were explained by Scott's mom in a report. Nobody will get curious about it. You're safe."

The last two words leave Lydia's mouth with a spark in her eyes Stiles can't really classify. Something between happiness and relief, maybe both.

"I'm glad you saved me," he tells her, trying to make the bad feeling obviously stressing her go away.

"I didn't save you," she answers and guilt is dripping from her words.

"Yes, you did," he insists. _In more ways you can imagine._

"I heard your subconscious in my mind and told Scott. He got the Nogitsune out of you, not me. I just … I just gave him information about your whereabouts." Lydia's features look sad, disappointed, guilty.

"And if you wouldn't have told Scott, nobody would've known where I was."

The words are hanging in the air between them. Stiles knows that he's right, even though he only knows the summary of what happened right now.

Lydia knows that he's right, too. But it still feels like she could've done better.

"Thank you, Lydia," he says.

And she smiles.

* * *

_Stiles was able to sense the weight of the Nogitsune in each single cell of his body and at the same time it felt like the connection to his own body was dysfunctional. One second he seemed to regain authority over his muscles, the next he lost the little power he had owned one moment earlier. The demon inside him was simply too strong._

_He had lost control over his own body._

_It felt odd, still being present in his own flesh and bones but simultaneously not being connected to it completely. He could hear the thoughts of the Nogitsune in his mind – or the Nogitsune's mind who inhabited his brain cells and therefore had made it his? He couldn't tell the difference anymore._

_The electric shock had burned most of his inner organs and wouldn't the demon fox possess his limbs, he would've died already. Even if it was possible to free him from the Nogitsune somehow, Stiles would die the second they were separated. That he was sure of._

_Thinking was hard. Following what was happening, too. He caught glimpses of reality, until his mind was tricked by the Nogitsune again. He remembered ripping that wire in two parts, he remembered kissing Malia in the Eichen House, he remembered turning that sword back and forth in Scott's torso._

_He didn't know what had happened for real and what was only a figment of his imagination. He didn't know when he was sleeping or when he was awake or if he actually still had the ability to move his muscles when _he_ wanted it._

_He didn't know a damn thing –_

– _besides the fact that he was standing in Derek's apartment right now. Or the Nogitsune in his body. Or both._

_The voice of his father touched his mind, made him open his eyes. Not his literal ones, but the eyes he was seeing through in his head._

_He heard his voice, hoarse and cold, say "Dad?" – or were it his actual vocal chords responding to his will?_

_The concern in his father's eyes would have made him tear up if he would have been able to control the bags under his eyes. Yet, even though he couldn't manage to take over his own body, he _felt_ that this wasn't right. Stiles didn't know which plans the Nogitsune had in mind, they didn't share thoughts – well, maybe the demon fox was able to read_ his_, but it didn't work the other way, apparently._

_Which was a huge disadvantage, if he would ever be able to communicate with them._

"_Stiles, I know you're in there somewhere," his dad continued. The Nogitsune turned around, very slowly, almost cautiously. If the situation would have been different, Stiles would have rolled his eyes at the dramatic element._

_His father's voice was faint, its volume changing with each word he said. It almost sounded like a radio station not having a good reception. It took all of Stiles' concentration to focus on the here and now._

_He was looking through his own eyes and at the same time he wasn't._

Help me, please_, he screamed in his mind, but not a single syllable was coming out of his mouth._

_Instead, his own corners of his mouth were twitching into a sick smile. "Yes, he's in here," the Nogitsune replied in place of Stiles, using his voice again without permission. "And he's _so_ desperate to talk to you."_

_For a brief moment, Stiles was able to focus on his father's face and what he saw made his heart sink again. Rage and hatred alternated with despair and helplessness. Too many emotions stuffed into one body. Too many possible decisions stuffed into one mind. His features literally screamed '_What do I have to do'_?_

_Then the door opened again – and Scott entered the room._

* * *

The smile on his best friend's face is something Stiles never thought he would need that desperately. However, watching Scott sit down on the exact same spot, Lydia sat only hours before, he feels his heart bump in a happy manner.

"How are you, man?" Scott asks in a forced casual tone. "You look terrible."

Stiles rolls his eyes playfully, manages a small smile. "Have been better."

Scott gives a short laugh, almost a bark. "Feeling any pain?"

"Are you serious? I ripped a high voltage cable into pieces. I killed all my nerve endings, I won't ever feel pain again."

"So you're completely fine," the werewolf replies, still smirking.

"Yeah, right. I feel like a million dollars right now."

They both know they're trying to make light conversation, but it's clear as day that it won't be easy at all to get back to normal.

As if his best friend heard the thought in his head, his smile disappears slowly and he grinds his jaw. "Listen," he begins, gulping once. "Since I'm your best friend and you are my best friend I probably know where this conversation is leading to, but I'll try, anyway."

A frown appears on Stiles' face. "What are you talking about?"

Scott takes a deep breath, leans in a few inches, before he answers. "Let me help you."

One pair of brown eyes connects with the other. For a brief moment, they can almost read their thoughts until Stiles looks away. He understands almost immediately what Scott wants to do. "No."

To his surprise, Scott laughs lightly. "I thought you'd say that."

"Yeah, because I'm your best friend," Stiles reminds him.

For a moment they are quiet, reminiscing everything that happened to them in the near past.

"Why not?" Scott finally breaks the silence, looking curious.

Stiles sighs. "Because I need to feel it."

Scott frowns. "What do you mean?"

Stiles takes another look through the room. The fear of not being alone is coming and going in waves. The panic attacks are brewing inside him and he knows he will break down sometime soon. The flashes of images inside his mind are enough to make his body get cold, to make his body tremble uncontrollably.

Not having control over his own body is something he doesn't ever want to feel again.

"When the Nogitsune took over my body, I couldn't do anything about it. I was there, I was able to see what it did, even if I forgot most about it, which I'm glad for, by the way, but I wasn't able to prevent it from causing chaos and strife. I _felt_ what it felt and there wasn't an ounce of regret. I watched it torture people, I watched it prepare its sick games and I couldn't even break free for _a single second_ just to tell you about it."

"But we finally fig–"

"Yes, you figured it out in the end. But I was _there_, Scott. I could have _done_ something. But I was too _weak_ to–"

His voice gets lost, the guilt rolling over him in waves. Tears well up in his eyes and at the same time they feel as dry as ever since he woke up two days ago.

"You're aware that this was a _Nogitsune_, Stiles, a really, _really_ powerful demon fox. Nobody could've done something about that."

Scott's voice is unstable, too. As a werewolf, he can sense the increased heart rate of his best friend, the blood pumping through his veins way too strong.

"I know," Stiles replies after a long silence, after his body and mind have calmed down a little. "I need control over my own body and mind. And if this means I have to lie in this hospital bed for the next two or four weeks and get crappy meals from the staff and only occasional checks by your mom, who seems to be the only nice person working here, then that's how it is. I need to recover on my own, without any help from someone else." _I need to be able to accept my own body again._

Thinking about the matter and actually speaking to someone about it is a huge difference but Scott understands and lets it go. "Okay," he replies, nodding once. "I understand that. But whenever you feel like someone could help you out with getting rid of some of that pain, you know my number."

Smiles bloom on both faces. "The second I feel like it I'll give you a call, McCall."

* * *

Stiles wakes up when another memory flashes through his mind but a few seconds after coming back to the real world most of it is gone again already. His senses are on high alert even though there isn't anything that could possibly harm him. Or invade his mind. He feels the sweat on his whole body but is too weak to get up and shower it off.

While taking deep breaths to calm himself down and pushing the images inside his head away until they vanish eventually, his eyes wander through the dark room.

He has to suppress a scream when he discovers someone sitting at the bottom end of his bed, looking at him.

It's a girl and its hair is curly, he can see that in the dim light of the moon shining through the window. It's a clear night, probably fairly cold, too. Full moon is only days away.

"Lydia?" He asks, his voice crooked. "What are you doing here?"

The strawberry-blonde bites her bottom lip, fumbles with her dress for a second, then she answers. "I wanted to make sure you're okay." Her own voice sounds crooked, too. "I couldn't sleep, so I went to the hospital and sneaked in. Scott's mom saw me on my way but she told me as long as I kept quiet I could stay."

Stiles moves a bit to the left and turns on the small lamp on his nightstand. Its light isn't warm or cozy, but her presence is.

"I'm fine," he replies, taking a long look at Lydia. "There isn't anything anymore that could be a threat to me. Or anybody else." He's not sure if he's encouraging her or himself.

She nods. "I know. I just …" She's struggling for words, something Lydia Martin only does on rare occasions. "I've been here for some time now. I didn't want to wake you, but I saw you dreaming so I tried to get you out of there."

Stiles grimaces. Flashes of images pass his mind again. "I can't really remember what I dreamed of. There was my dad and I was talking to him and then Scott came in and wanted to …" He's at a loss at what happened after that. "I can't recall it."

"You will. Soon," Lydia replies, trying to smile and a single tear drops on her dress.

Stiles' eyes widen. "Hey, don't cry. There's nothing you should cry about."

Another tear makes its way down her face. He would give anything at that moment to reach up to her and take it away, but he's still too weak to get up. He's barely even strong enough to eat or talk.

"I could've figured it out earlier," Lydia says finally. "If I would've tried harder, I could've thought of the solution to this nightmare faster. You never would have to go through all of this and you wouldn't be here right now."

Stiles' eyes wander towards her hand, estimate the distance between his own and hers and come to the conclusion that he only has to move a little downwards in order to be able to take it.

Lydia looks up from her lap and in his eyes, says nothing.

"You're the smartest girl I know," Stiles begins and means every single word. "You're not just pretty, you're clever, too. And _you_ were the one who finally figured out how to help me get the Nogitsune out of my body. If there's anybody who should be given credit to, it's _you_."

Her hand is still in his own, feels almost clenched and a little cold. Her pale skin tone looks even paler in his palm. When he strokes it with his thumb, he feels the softness of it and for a second pride wells up inside him.

A few months ago, Lydia wouldn't even recognize him, even if they were classmates. The only thing that is wrong about the circumstance is the fact that they had to go through a lot of terrifying situations to become friends.

Now he is holding her hand and comforting her.

Even if they would never be happy together, he would make sure she would be happy with whomever she wanted to be.

"Thanks," Lydia finally says and for a second, Stiles believes there's something else she wants to tell him. One moment later, though, the moment seems to have passed.

Staring at their hands, Stiles finally looks up. "So, do you want to stay for a while? I have quite the TV now," he says, smiling.

Lydia laughs shortly, taking another look at their hands, before replying. "Yeah, I'll stay."

Then she frees her hand from his, takes one of the two chairs, puts it down next to him and crosses her legs.

"What do you want to watch?" He asks her, holding out the remote in her direction. "May the force be with you."

At that, the strawberry-blonde bursts into laughter. Surprised, Stiles gives her a sideward glance. "You know Star Wars?"

She rolls her eyes. "Of course I do."

A small flashes across his features. "The famous Lydia Martin is a nerd," he teases. "She just confessed it."

Her head turns in his direction, her curls whipping through the air. "I didn't confess anything."

"Oh yes, you did." The laughter is building up inside him and even though Stiles knows his body hasn't healed enough already that it won't happen without feeling pain, he laughs.

For the first time since he woke up, he laughs.

When Lydia stops at 'The Notebook', his laughter becomes silent, though.

"That's your punishment for uncovering my darkest secret," she announces, putting her chin a little higher, but he can see the suppressed smile on her face.

Stiles shortly laughs again, shaking his head once, then concentrates on the movie.

He would do anything for her.

Even if it meant watching the cheesiest of movies ever produced.

* * *

**A/N:** Any thoughts? I'd love to hear back from you. Your opinion is my motivation. Besides those lovely characters, of course.

See you soon,

Dibbii.


	2. Scared

Hey guys,

thanks for the first four reviews and a lot of Alerts and Favorites! I'm very happy that you're interested in my words.

The next chapter is a little shorter, but the one after that will be longer and not that much of a fill-in than this one seems to be. However, there's some important things that have to be cleared up for Stiles and he'll deal with it in this chapter.

Have fun reading!

* * *

**Scared**

"… _and we are back again. Thanks for staying with us this morning. We're very happy to …"_

Stiles wakes up suddenly when the door to his hospital room is opened by someone. Strangely, it never occurred to his subconscious to snap out of his dream because of the fairly loud noises the TV makes. Apparently, he fell asleep while watching 'The Notebook' with Lydia. No wonder, regarding all the different medications he has to take these days to recover. He can barely remember the first part of the movie, so he must have dozed off immediately after they had fallen silent.

Looking at the two empty chairs makes Stiles' stomach drop for a second before he scolds himself in his mind. Why would Lydia Martin wait for him to wake up in the morning? Especially when it means sleeping in an uncomfortable chair like the one standing next to his bed.

"Morning, Stiles," a familiar voice says a few seconds after closing the door again.

"Morning, Mrs. McCall," he replies with a yawn when she gets in sight.

"Thanks for boosting the electricity bill of my workplace," she laughs while putting a fresh collection of medications on his nightstand.

"Yeah, I'm sorry," he replies. "But I kind of fell asleep and Lydia must have left at some point shortly after that."

Stiles remembers what the strawberry-blonde told him about sneaking into his room, so it's no problem to share his thoughts with Scott's mom.

For a moment, Mrs. McCall is studying him and a crease appears between her brows. "I'm worried about her, you know," she says after a moment. "She seems to put the blame on herself when it comes to not saving you faster."

Stiles inhales sharply and tries to get up but flinches at the pain rushing through his body. Sudden movements still aren't a very good idea. "Why?" He groans, doing his best to get into something that looks more like a sitting position than a lying and manages to end up in a thing between both options.

Mrs. McCall walks to one side of his bed, still a worried look on her features. For a brief moment, a memory of his own mother Claudia appears in his mind and he clenches his fists to hold in possible other images popping up in his mind.

"I don't know, exactly, to be honest," she tells him, putting one of her hands on his shoulders. "But she'll get past that. When she sees you being healthy again at the latest. You know her. You know she's a fighter."

Stiles tries to look up to the woman who was like a mother figure for him since his own mother's death. "Thank you," he simply replies, because there is nothing else he could say right now. "Yeah, she definitely is a fighter."

Silence follows his words, until the anchorman of the morning show yells something about getting naked in public and they both snap out of their thoughts.

"So, is there anything you can tell me about my treatment?" Stiles asks to simply change the subject and draw attention towards their conversation and away from the disturbingly awake man on TV.

He doesn't think there will be much he doesn't know already.

"Actually, I have," Mrs. McCall replies, much to his surprise. "The doctors have scheduled your first therapy lesson to next Thursday since the scans of your body were unexpectedly positive."

A comforting feeling washes over him, followed by confusion. "What does that mean? _Unexpectedly_ positive?"

Mrs. McCall gives him a reassuring look. "Don't worry. You're plain human. Some of your organs were damaged and are about to heal and the scar on your stomach and a few smaller ones will most likely stay there for the rest of your life but your body is working its own magic. No supernatural forces involved. You've always been a stubborn one, you're fighting for yourself."

A smile appears on Stiles' face and a warm feeling makes its way to his heart. "Thanks," he says again and although he feels like he told a lot of people just this, it still doesn't feel overused. It's the only thing his people should hear every day from now on.

Because if they wouldn't have been there for him, if they hadn't clung to the belief that he could still be rescued, even after he had done what the Nogitsune wanted him to do, he wouldn't be here right now.

* * *

The next few days pass by and nothing bad happens. Stiles hasn't much time to think about what happened to him, what was forced upon him and which extremes his body and soul had to get through. There's always somebody with him.

At first he believes they feel guilty for him being in hospital, but after three days of constant company, Stiles gets the idea that they try to distract him from thinking too hard. Usually, Scott or Lydia stay at his side after dinner until he falls asleep, which currently is around 10 pm since he still feels exhausted and all the pills he has to swallow take their toll on him. During the day, everybody seems to visit occasionally. His dad visits after work and even Mrs. McCall tries to sneak in whenever she has a few minutes and brings him his meals and medication day by day.

All of them have worried looks on their faces.

It's something Stiles notices every time someone sits down next to him. They try to hide it but he still gets the impression that something's off. That they aren't exactly sure how to treat him, how to talk to him. Even Scott shows his insecurity in brief moments of hesitation, which is something he's never seen on his face before.

Which is why it strikes the eye that clearly.

It takes Stiles exactly five and a half hours of his Sunday after waking up to analyze why everybody's acting like they're acting.

They are scared.

They are scared he will snap out of his skin and become the Nogitsune again because none of them understands how the demon fox got into his body in the first place.

They are scared because they saw him acting as the Nogitsune.

They are scared because his appearance reminds them of the Nogitsune.

His heart rate increases when he finally connects the dots.

"Have you listened to me?" His father asks.

No, he hasn't.

"Are you scared of me?" Stiles blurts out suddenly.

The words echo through the room like a gun shot. Sheriff Stilinski is looking at him, mouth open, caught mid-sentence. For a moment he doesn't move at all, then closes his mouth, only to open it again a second later.

Finally, he replies. "What are you talking about?"

Stiles rolls his eyes and regrets his annoyed reaction immediately. "Everyone is looking at me like I'm about to get crazy again. I watched them change looks when they think I'm not paying attention. I know it's hard to get back to normal for them but …" His voice trails off, but his mind keeps spinning.

_It's hard for me, too. I need their support, not their strange looks. The Nogitsune used _my_ body, infiltrated _my_ mind, not theirs. The person, whose path will be the rockiest, is mine, not theirs._

"I'm not."

Stiles is not sure where the certainty is coming from but it doesn't even take him a full second to believe his father.

"Why not? My face surely reminds you of the monster that was possessing me."

His dad sighs, waits a few breaths until he replies. "I'm going to be very honest with you now, but you're my son and I know you'll handle this, so I'm not going to lie." He inhales deeply, before he continues, moves a little closer to Stiles. "Yes, occasionally there are still a few moments popping up in my head, where this demon made you move and act like it wanted to. But I knew this face before it was misused and I know what you're capable of and this doesn't involve causing chaos and strife. It involves caring about your family and friends and giving them a reason to feel important. It involves being a pretty intelligent kid that has a lot of all those character traits of my wife that made me marry her in the first place. It involves being a pain in the ass sometimes and telling me crap you want me to believe but deep down I know that everything you lied to me about these past few months has been to protect me. _That's_ you, Stiles. Not the cold-blooded, reckless thing that possessed you for a few days. Yet, you have to understand that they will need some time, but they'll come around eventually. All that happened wasn't even a full week ago and it's still fresh to all of them. But you'll see. Sooner than you think they'll have smiles on their faces again and there won't be any uncomfortable moments anymore."

Stiles didn't even know that he needed to hear sentences like these but with every word his father is voicing he feels the anxiety getting a little less prominent. By the end of the short speech he has calmed down almost completely.

Feeling his father's hand on his shoulder, carefully caressing him and spending him comfort, he suddenly has to suppress crying.

Looking up, his dad has to fight the same urge.

"I'm so glad I didn't lose you, too," he says without a warning, his voice shaky and almost not audible.

"Dad, don't–"

"Your mother would be proud of you."

That's the moment where the first tear rolls down Stiles' cheek.

A moment later, he finds himself in his dad's arms and the pain isn't important anymore.

"I doubt that," he replies, his words muffled against his father's shoulder. When they pull back, Stiles looks him into his eyes. "But I think she would've liked the new haircut."

Teary laughs echo through the small room. Sad smiles are exchanged. Together they revel in memories of their beloved wife and mother.

* * *

The next day passes by in a blur. Stiles feels a little more exhausted than the days before and falls asleep a few times during the day whenever he's on his own. It is late afternoon when his heartbeat has a reason to increase and he suddenly feels awake.

She's wearing a pink dress and brown high heels.

But the first thing Stiles notices are the dark circles under her eyes.

It's something that not just sticks out because he probably knows every inch of her outer appearance and has memorized every single impression her face has ever shown but also because Lydia Martin's make-up is always perfect.

"Hey," he says, his voice cracking since he hasn't said much this day.

"Hey," she replies, pulling the chair over to Stiles and sitting down next to him. "How are you?"

"How are _you_?" Stiles retorts immediately. "You look terrible. I mean – not _terrible_, but … tired. Really tired. Because of the … the bags under your eyes. Not that they're _that_ prominent, you know. I just noticed them by accident and –"

"I couldn't sleep very well," Lydia interrupts his struggle for words and looks at her hands. "I haven't had a good sleep in days."

The urge to help her is so prominent it's almost ridiculous.

"I'm not really the best to talk to when it comes to get-a-good-night-of-sleep-advice, you know," Stiles tells her with a crooked smile. "It's only the meds that make me all dozy but I wouldn't recommend them to anybody because they make you feel like that for days."

Lydia smiles back, biting her lip. "Any news from the doctors?"

For a moment, Stiles is a little taken aback by the sudden change of topic, however, he respects if she doesn't want to talk about it. "Other than the therapy lesson next Thursday I've already told you about, no."

It feels almost natural telling her the newest developments. They were keeping each other up-to-date the whole time during troubling times. The only difference now was that it was about his safety and health, about _him_ and not about others.

His well-being is important to her.

_He_ is important to her.

The news he just gave himself feels more overwhelming than he would've guessed only thinking about it.

"Wanna watch some TV?" He asks her, trying to make something out of the silence that's stretching through the hospital room.

Lydia nods, looking at her hands again. She's close enough that he notices goose bumps on her arms. The words Scott's mom said to him ring in his ears again.

'_I'm worried about her, you know. She seems to put the blame on herself when it comes to not saving you faster._

"Are you freezing?" He blurts out without thinking about it.

In response, she folds her arms, tracing her hands down her upper arms, almost as if she wants to cover the evidence. "I'm okay."

"No, seriously, Lydia," Stiles says, this time a little more insistently. "What's wrong?"

She doesn't reply but looks away instead, her curls falling down with the movement and shielding her face from his view.

And even though Stiles should be worried about his own well-being and only his, he can't do anything about reacting like he reacts and acting like he acts. "You can talk to me," he says, this time in a soft voice, ignoring the exhaustion creeping up inside him, telling him to calm down or go to sleep. "I know a few things about feeling like crap."

For a few heartbeats, she doesn't move an inch and Stiles is at a loss with what to do next. Since he's practically bound to stay in his current something-between-sitting-and-lying-position, he can't do anything else than wait for her to speak up again.

"I have to go," she finally replies and her words feel like physical pain.

_You can stay and talk to me, I'll listen. I won't judge you. I won't give you advice if you don't want any. I won't tell anybody about what's burdening you. I'll try and make you feel better. I'd do anything to make you feel better. Always._

A rush of words appear in his head but he only says "Okay." and let's her go.

One moment later she's gone and the only thing left is silence.

* * *

This night, Stiles dreams of Lydia and her sitting next to his bedside, watching him sleep. A peaceful smile appears on his face and a sad smile appears on hers. A single tear falls down her face and onto the cold ground. He wants to move and avoid her shedding another one because of him but even in his subconscious he's too tired to move.

The next morning, he doesn't remember dreaming and that's good because no dark memories were penetrating his mind.

* * *

**A/N:** So, that's it. I'm not one hundred percent satisfied with the chapter but well.

First thing cleared up: Stiles is human. Second thing cleared up: His father isn't afraid of him and he promises that his friends won't be soon, too.

And the big question: What's wrong with Lydia? And was her sitting next to his bedside while he was sleeping a dream or was he actually looking at her? You'll find out soon enough. ;)

I'd love to hear back from you guys! Tell me what you think.


	3. Breaking

Hey guys,

thanks for all the reviews and favorites and alerts! I hope you like the next chapter. I loved writing it and I hope it's something you can enjoy, too. Have fun!

* * *

**Breaking**

It's sixteen hours before the first session of Stiles' therapy when it happens and another seventeen hours before that right now.

Lydia's sudden disappearance made him think about her behavior the majority of the night. A few hours ago he managed to heave his body to his right shoulder so that he was able to watch the moon outside come up and eventually go down again. It was another clear and most probably fairly cold night and he was even able to count a few stars.

There was something bugging her and he had no clue what it was. He repeated the short scene in his head over and over again but couldn't connect the dots. Even after a few hours of hard thinking alone in his room, he still isn't able to understand.

And it's driving him mad since he always was the one who figured it out.

_You're always the one who figures it out._

A brief flash of Lydia standing on that trap appears in his mind and he can't do anything about it but let the memory linger a few seconds longer before he pushes it away.

Even after everything that happened to him these last days he can't get her out of his head. But then again, besides his friends and family being at his bedside whenever they are able to, maybe it's the only thing keeping him from snapping these days.

The small alarm clock standing on his bed table shows him the current time. 03:41 am. Stiles should be asleep for hours by now but it's impossible to calm down. Lying down on his back and staring at the ceiling again, he decides to collect the facts. For the hundredth time.

Firstly, Scott's mom told him she is worried about her because Lydia is blaming everything on herself.

Secondly, she has dark circles under her eyes, which imply insomnia.

Thirdly, she is not talking about her own well-being, which indicates she is hiding something from everybody, maybe only from him.

Fourthly, her daily routine consists at least of paying him a short visit, which could be proof that she feels guilty and her showing up is part of paying her debts and calming her remorse.

Fifthly, the constant, silent crying, when she is around him, which also indicates she is feeling guilty.

It seems like the solution is floating around in front of him but he can't see it. The only thing he can deduce is that she indeed feels bad about not saving him earlier. She even told him herself a few days ago. And the thought of Lydia feeling bad about something she couldn't have changed anyway makes him feel bad, too.

However, it seems like there is something more to this.

"Why are you such an enigma to me," he whispers into the night, turning his eyes towards the window to be able to stare at the moon again. Maybe the almost white ball that casts his diffuse light on him can tell him why Lydia's acting like she's acting.

It takes him another one and a half hours to finally fall asleep.

* * *

It's sixteen hours before the first session of Stiles' therapy when it happens and another eight hours before that right now.

For the first time since he woke up, Stiles is eating his breakfast in a real sitting position when the door opens. To his surprise, Scott enters the room.

"Dude, don't you have to be at school right now?" is the first thing that comes out of his mouth, not "Hey, good to see you".

His best friend looks at him with a grin, although a tense one.

"Good morning to you, too," he replies, puts down the backpack and sits down next to him, like everyone does these days. "How's the chicken?"

Stiles looks at the slice of bread with turkey breast on it and nods approvingly. "Your mom got me the best one in this whole facility, I guess. Like always," he comments with a mouth full of said turkey breast. "Why aren't you at school?" He repeats after taking another bite.

Scott clears his throat and looks out of the window for a second. "I told Coach Finstock I wasn't feeling very well and left. I'm not sure he really believed me but he sent me home, anyway. I think he was too scared of me puking in class and getting called responsible for it or something." Another grin flashes across Scott's face and it's another rather uncomfortable one.

Stiles feels the anger boiling up inside him for no reason. "And you just did that because you were so desperate to see me?"

His words sound harsher than he intended but he can't take them back anymore.

Scott's eyes linger a moment on his until he replies. "I wouldn't phrase it like that but yes, I'm here because of you." Another pause emerges and stretches until it gets uncomfortable. "What's wrong?"

It's a simple question but when Stiles starts to think about it, no simple answer appears in his mind for seconds. "I don't know," he says, looking out of the window again and he really doesn't _know_.

And that's it. That's the answer.

"Maybe that's exactly the problem," Stiles continues, looking up to Scott and ignoring his troubled expression for a second. "I don't know _anything_, Scott. I only know what you told me about all the horrible things that I did and it doesn't feel like I was doing them because something else took my body and misused it as its own. Until now, I had one clear dream about the Nogitsune and what happened at Derek's apartment. Well, what happened until you came in. Everything else is still a story for me. But it was still _me_."

He has to breathe in deeply because he feels his heart rate increasing quickly and doesn't want himself to get another panic attack like the one Lydia helped him through in the end. Fidgeting with his bedding, he has to refrain himself from ripping it into shreds. If he would be a werewolf, he surely would have done that by now.

When he is a little calmer, he speaks again. "I don't … I don't want to remember what I did but I have to because otherwise I'll go crazy since I don't know what I did."

The crease on Scott's forehead gets deeper with every word Stiles tells him but it's not a confused one. It's one that indicates concern and even a little fear for his best friend and that's the worst part of it. That's the part that lets the words flow through his mind and out of his mouth and he isn't able to stop them.

"I know it wasn't exactly my mind that thought what the Nogitsune thought and it weren't my hands that did everything bad and it wasn't my plan that almost worked until the end but it was my body and my face and my voice that did it, even if the demon only controlled them and I didn't do anything on my own. I'm not feeling a _bit_ better knowing this because there surely was the chance of breaking out of it, to snap out of this madness but I didn't know how or when the right moment was. I let the Nogitsune in and it settled down and wouldn't leave anymore."

Just now, Stiles realizes that he's clenching his fists and it takes a lot of effort to open his hands again. Half moons are on his palms, almost deep enough to make them bleed. He's breathing heavily and his eyes are open wide. He didn't even notice the moment he got up in a sitting position again and just when he thinks about it the pain returns. Suddenly, even keeping his eyes open and concentrating feels hard to do.

"I'm sorry," Stiles mumbles and lets his body fall back into the cushions. The bump when he connects with the soft material causes another wave of pain but he ignores it as best as possible. "I'm sorry."

There is only a short moment where Scott is looking at him in a confused manner until he bridges the distance and puts his arms around his best friend.

A lot of thoughts run through Stiles' mind at once and he isn't able to think through all of them.

But there's one thing that sticks out.

_He'll never leave me. Even if I go crazy, Scott will try and fix me._

"It wasn't you," Scott says again and Stiles has to clench his jaw because otherwise the tears would start to flow and he doesn't want his best friend to see him that weak. He made it possible for him to live, he brought him back.

"I know," he finally replies, when their arms aren't around each other anymore. "But it's hard to believe."

For a few seconds they look at each other, sad smiles on their faces.

"Thanks for bringing me back. Thanks for making me human again."

Scott's eyes wander from Stiles' face to his left, where he put down his backpack after entering the room. "Yeah," he replies and the same forced smile appears on his features again. "About that …"

It's almost physically noticeable how the mood changes again. Stiles frowns. "What?" He asks, his voice demanding. "What's wrong?"

"There's nothing wrong with you," Scott replies hesitantly, scratching his head and avoiding to look his best friend in the eyes. "Uh, for now."

"What the _hell_ are you talking about?"

Scott sighs and looks like he's struggling for words he isn't able to find. "We were debating," he starts and Stiles' glance gets darker.

"Oh, wow, now you're _debating_." Another time, his voice is more impolite than he intended and a subtle feeling rushes through him that he shouldn't treat his best friend like that but at the same time another few tell him to get mad at him right now.

Scott still looks like he really wants to leave the room. "Yeah, Lydia, Deaton, Isaac, Allison … basically all of your friends," he continues. "There is a lot we had to discuss about the outcome of all of this. The Nogitsune was a very powerful demon fox with a lot of history and we've seen a lot of things not turning out the way we wanted it to. It was kind of a precaution to think about all the possible scenarios that could happen in the next days. There was a lot of talking but in the end we came to two final options."

His eyes dart out of the window for the fraction of a second and Stiles knows immediately.

"You think I'll turn."

Silence follows and stretches out.

"We're just cautious about this, Stiles," Scott begins but his best friend interrupts him.

"And you didn't think about talking to _me_ about this until it's only a few hours before one of those possibilities is about to happen or the other one? Have you ever thought of me racking my _brain _because of that possibility? I couldn't get a good night's sleep since I woke up after all of this without medication because I was thinking about what will happen the next day since I seem to attract the darkest of spirits like the light the moths? I'm not dumb, Scott."

The puzzled look on Scott's face turns more into hurt with every sentence Stiles speaks out loud. "We just … want to help you," he says slowly after a few seconds and the wide eyes finally calm him down a little.

He doesn't deserve being yelled at, he doesn't deserve his bad mood and the anger and the fear that is manifesting in angry speeches that aren't really angry at all.

"I … I'm sorry, Scott."

Looking down on his hands the feeling of unfamiliarity runs through him again. The mental part is almost worse than the physical because it's nothing he can grasp. If your body gets bad, you get medication. If your mind gets bad, you get therapy. But what if you're already beyond recovery? The leg that has an infection can easily be amputated. The mind is nothing you can take since it's nothing materialistic.

"I'm scared."

It's only when Stiles speaks it out loud, he realizes that he is.

More precisely, he's _terrified_.

"I know."

The caring expression on Scott's face is warming Stiles' heart.

"I don't feel like my body is recovering too fast. I mean, you heal in seconds, even your freaking tattoo vanished in an instant. The medication is helping but I don't think there's any supernatural power involved. Maybe it'll be triggered tonight or the dark spirit still has to wear off or something until I'm completely human again. I guess we have to wait and see."

Scott's face turns into a perplexed expression. "Dude, that's exactly what we wanted to tell you."

A smile appears on Stiles' face and the anger because they were talking about him without telling him anything until now is forgotten in an instant.

* * *

It's sixteen hours before the first session of Stiles' therapy when it happens.

After their talk they decided that Scott would get back later since Stiles wasn't showing any signs of turning into a werewolf during the next few hours. He said he would be back around ten o'clock the latest and until then someone else would take his place. They had to do school stuff, even if their friend was at hospital. Real life didn't take a break because of that.

After Scott had left the room, Stiles had turned around and watched the sky. It hadn't taken long until he had fallen into a deep sleep. The debating had taken its toll on him.

When he wakes up now, the world is out of joint.

He's screaming on top of his lungs and he doesn't know why.

At first, there's darkness all around him. His eyes are still closed but the moment he wakes up he's already screaming. His throat burns, his voice sounds scratchy, as if he has screamed for some time already. Hands are trying to hold him down but he suddenly feels stronger than ever, almost _too _strong.

Slowly but constantly the darkness is getting smaller and the world is appearing in front of him again. At first, everything is a blur, a smeared picture of reality. He doesn't know where he is or who he is or what year it is. He doesn't know if he really is awake or if this is another trick of the Nogitsune. Another trick to bring him further down the road and shoving him another step towards insanity. He doesn't even know if he's still sane or if he's a lost cause already.

Thoughts run through his head and he isn't able to categorize them in any way. Voices battle each other, telling him to go back to sleep, telling him to wake up, telling him that he's awake already, telling him that he's still asleep.

The screaming doesn't help at all but he doesn't seem to be able to stop it either. It's the only way to express his fear, his confusion, his terror. There was something bad happening in his mind but he doesn't remember. He doesn't remember.

_He doesn't remember._

"Please, stop screaming," a voice rings in his ears from afar. At the same time, hands are still trying to push him back into the cushions again. "_Please_." It almost sounds like someone is crying.

It's the voice of a girl. He is able to distinguish the gender of the speaker at least. Besides that, nothing seems to make any sense right now. Why is he screaming? Why is everything still blurry? Why is his head hurting that bad? Why is everything not in place?

"Stiles, just … Calm down, please."

The screaming starts to faint, at least a little, and it feels like the voice is helping him to calm down. He doesn't know why it's helping. It's just a feeling deep inside of him.

Maybe the one of his heart.

"Yeah, that's good. Just keep going. Forget about the dream. It was just a dream. You're safe. You're here with me. Do you know who I am?"

Something in his mind starts to sway whenever the voice is talking to him. Something in his body starts to get warm and relaxes. "I …," Stiles starts, pinching his eyelids for a second and opening them again a moment later.

And somehow he _sees_ again.

"Lydia …," he whispers, staring at her. His breathing is still a little frantic and his pulse could indicate that he ran a marathon a few seconds ago but he's getting better by the second.

"Yes, it's me, Lydia. Now listen to me. I want you to breathe deeply, okay? Just follow my lead."

Stiles has a hard time concentrating on everything she's showing him but he finally manages to calm down a little more.

"Are you okay?" She asks and just now Stiles notices one hand caressing his cheek and the other one laying on his lower arm. Her touch is gentle and warm and he feels cold against it.

Swallowing hard, other details become clear. The strand of hair that is blocking one of Lydia's eyes; her terrified look; her thumb drawing circles on his skin; his breathing still not being slow and under control completely; his face feeling wet.

Reality is storming in.

"What happened?" Stiles asks, confused.

"You had a panic attack," Lydia tells him, sitting on his bed, way too close to him.

"I … _Why?_"

Lydia bites her lip. "I think you were dreaming about the Nogitsune. I was sitting here, watching you sleep and all of a sudden you started to scream."

Stiles gulps. "I'm … I'm sorry I scared you." It is the first thing that is coming to his mind looking at her wide eyes.

Lydia shakes her head. "Don't apologize. You can't do anything about it. To be honest, you did well for those few days you were awake now. It had to happen sooner or later."

Finally, the strawberry-blonde lowers her hand and takes his. "Are you okay?" She asks again.

"How did you do that?" Stiles blurts out instead of answering her question. "How did you … pull me back?" He can't recall the last few minutes in detail. The only thing he seems to remember is the terror he felt and the calming voice that turned out to be Lydia's in the end.

Lydia looks at him with eyes open wide. "I don't know," she replies. "I just kept talking to you and you calmed down eventually."

"Huh," Stiles replies. "Well, thanks for that."

A small smile appears on her face. "It's okay."

And in that moment he can see all the details of her beautiful face. The green of her eyes, that isn't even entirely green but sprinkled with brown and blue parts, the freckles that are almost not visible, the traces of make up on her skin she wouldn't even need because she is one of those girls that are pretty without make-up, a natural beauty. At least to him. For him, she won't ever not be beautiful.

"Why did you leave?" He blurts out suddenly.

Her posture gets stiff all of a sudden and Lydia looks away, down at their hands. "I don't want to talk about it."

"You have to."

Her head pops up again, her brows furrowed in confusion. "And why's that?"

Stiles sighs, the exhausting feeling coming back after using all his strength to freak out. "Because I'm worried sick. I can't not think about it. It's eating my thoughts. I don't know what's wrong and it's making me crazy."

For a second, he's debating with himself if he should say what he wants to say or not. When his mouth opens automatically, it's too late to take it back.

"Let me help you like you help me. Let me listen. I can't do anything in this bed besides listen. I know there's something bugging you and if there's something bugging _you_ it's bugging _me_. Just tell me. Why did you cry?"

When Lydia looks at him again, the tears are back. "I will tell you," she finally replies in a whisper. "I will tell you as soon as we can be sure you're human and nothing else."

The tear that's about to fall down in her lap is taken away with a swipe of Stiles' thumb. "Just promise me one thing. Don't cry because of me. I'm not worth it."

The laugh that escapes her mouth sounds disbelieving and her eyes tear up again. "Do you even hear yourself talking?" She asks, looking him directly in the eye. "You're worth every single minute of waiting for this full moon to get up that sky and get down again and you lying here and not reacting to it at all. You don't even know how much you mean to all of your friends, do you?"

Her words feel like knives and feathers all at the same time and Stiles doesn't know what to reply.

"I'm not worth dying for," he replies.

"You're worth saving," she retorts.

Silence spreads through the room while Stiles processes what Lydia just told him.

"Let's watch a movie," she finally says, pulls back slowly, gets the remote and – much to Stiles' surprise – sits down on his bed again. "But today, it's your turn to choose which one."

* * *

**A/N:** That's it. Stiles' breakdown, that was kind of overdue and the secret is revealed. What do you think? Is Stiles turning into a werewolf or not? I'd love to hear back from you. :)


	4. Changing

Hello my lovely Stydia-shippers,

I'm really sorry this took so long but real life kind of got in the way (I wrote a paper about Sherlock for university, so that kept me busy) but there is a new chapter now and I hope it meets your expectations. A huge thanks to everyone who put _Healing_ on their list or left a review. I'm really happy about every single one of them. :)

Have fun with the chapter, I loved writing it.

* * *

**Changing**

_Soothing words were the only thing that came from Stiles' friends to prevent anything bad to happen. The Nogitsune seemed to enjoy them. To the demon it felt like a song in its ears. Stiles could feel the amusement tickle its senses, stimulate the muscles of his own face and form a snarky smile. He tried to stop the demon fox from laughing but when his vocal chords began to vibrate and his chest to rise and fall in waves he knew he had lost this fight, too._

_Maybe he had to lose a lot of fights, but, in the end, win the war. That was one of the few thoughts which kept him strong enough not losing his mind completely._

"_I see you brought back-up," the Nogitsune began, the smirk still prominent on Stiles' features. His hands folded before his stomach, standing there in a relaxed pose, eyeing all of them. "And you are here to fight, I suppose."_

_Looking at them, the Nogitsune sensed the fear in their eyes, but the real Stiles was able to see so much more. In every single face, other feelings were readable, yet, even with all the knowledge the demon had since it had infiltrated Stiles' mind, he didn't _know_ any of the people standing in front of both of them._

_Scott looked troubled and conflicted. And, most importantly, the fear that was displayed in his eyes wasn't the fear of possibly getting himself hurt – he was an Alpha who could stand for himself, if he had to – it was the fear of not being able to rescue Stiles, his best friend, his _brother_._

_If he had been able to control his own body, surely a tear would've slipped by now._

_Before Stiles could take a longer look at his best friend, his gaze moved towards Lydia because the Nogitsune wouldn't take a special interest in Scott._

_And in that short moment he was granted a look at her, Stiles mind spun._

_There was the same fear in her eyes like the one he saw in Scott's. But there was more. Not just the fear of losing her friend, but something stronger. She was running scared while her mind was swirling. The little crease on her forehead gave it away. Her clenched fists, her teeth almost biting too hard on her lower lip and her eyes wide open were screaming at him that she was thinking of a plan. She even had to keep herself from hopping from one foot to the other. Stiles could see that because she was shifting her weight from left to right and vice versa._

_Then the Nogitsune's gaze wandered to Peter, Isaac, Allison, Derek, the twins, Kira, Allison's father and Stiles' own. They were looking at him with conflicted emotions and concern was battling with fear and determination. A lot of them were clenching fists or grinding their teeth. Allison holding her bow up high, her father aiming two guns with deadly precision at Stiles' head, his father pinpointing his own one, his eyebrows a deep crease on his forehead. Kira took out her blade. Peter, Derek, Aiden, Ethan, Isaac and Scott were transforming the second the Nogitsune looked back to the leader of the pack._

"_What a nice little collection you have here," the Nogitsune commented and another time Stiles hated it for misusing his body. By the time the demon began pacing from one side to the other the tension in the room was almost physically sensible. "I'm getting the impression of you feeling rather outraged about me being in this pretty apartment. I wonder why that's the case."_

_The smile that had never vanished in the first place got more prominent on Stiles' face and he was sure that it must have look misplaced and odd. Everyone standing in front of him tensed up every single muscle. The most disturbing part was that the Nogitsune didn't feel any fear. More precisely any negative emotion._

_It was _enjoying_ it._

_The conflicting thoughts inside their friend's and family's heads were feeding its desires and were making it stronger with every second passing by. Fear and confusion were radiating from every single one of them, enriched with other emotions being more subtle but even more conflicting. The combination made it perfect, an impeccable mix of the feeling of almost a dozen tortured souls._

"_Don't drag it out for too long, will you?" The Nogitsune went on, the smirk never faltering. "You know you want to kill me. You just don't know how to keep your precious friend and son alive."_

* * *

Stiles jerks up the second he wakes from his dream. Sweat prickles on his forehead and his breathing comes in short gasps, almost as if he is not getting enough oxygen in time. Forcing his mind to stop swirling like a hurricane, he traces one of his hands through his hair and takes a long look around the room.

_Focus._

He is still at the hospital, the TV is still on and some late night show anchorman is still blabbing something he can't register right away. The moon is sitting at the same spot it did the night before, his outline a perfect circle.

It is the night of the full moon.

And he hasn't turned.

Stiles is about to yell something through the hospital room to congratulate himself on still being human when he spots the small figure to his left.

His mouth stays open, but not from the joy he feels rather than the surprise.

By now, he should be familiar with people sitting next to his bedside when he wakes up but he jumps anyway and feels a short but piercing pain following. His face changes into a grimace for a moment before he pulls himself together and shoves the pain away.

Next to him, Lydia fell asleep in the uncomfortable chair she always sits on and for a second he is reminded of himself when he waited for her to get better fora whole weekend.

She is breathing slowly and deeply, but he can see her eyeballs moving frantically under her perfectly shadowed eyelids. Her long lashes stir ever so slightly while she is dreaming about something he doesn't know.

For a second, Stiles is simply staring at her.

She looks peaceful, even with her eyes moving fast. By now, all of them were used to the frightened looks on their friend's faces. They were on constant alert. No night went by when everybody was sleeping at the same time. All of them had to deal with insomnia at some point or another.

Yet, Stiles had noticed the bags under her eyes and seeing her falling asleep on a chair now just proves his theory right. There _is_ something occupying her and it _is_ stealing her night hours and uses them for making her think about whatever is occupying her mind.

Since Lydia being in a deep sleep and Stiles being wide awake, he doesn't know what to do exactly.

If they were close friends, he could have waken her and asked her if she wanted to share the bed with him in a platonic way.

If they were a couple, he could have waken her and asked her if she wanted to share the bed with him in a romantic way.

Turning off the TV since the anchorman is still yelling and he doesn't want to wake her before he has made a decision, he is still contemplating with himself.

They clearly are _friends_ and he is sure that Lydia cares about him in some sort of way. Yet, he is pretty sure that she wouldn't agree to his offer to get into a more comfortable position than the current one. Leaving her in this chair gets her a few extra hours of sleep, though, and she looked like she needs them.

_What should I do …_

There were only a few occasions in life when Stiles Stilinski wasn't able to figure things out but most of the time it involved girls, well, one girl in particular.

Just before Stiles is about to start thinking about the possibilities again, he notices that the aftermath of his nightmare has worn off completely. Just at the sight of the strawberry-blonde he has calmed down almost completely.

An odd smile he can't quite put a finger on as to why he is smiling it in the first place is occupying his face.

Then she wakes up.

It takes her almost half a minute to know where she is. Stiles can trace how her facial expression goes from confused to realizing.

"Oh my god," she mutters, her eyes getting wider with every second that passes by. "Oh my god."

"Well, good morning to you, too," Stiles greets her and rubs his own eyes. "I just woke up," he tells her. "Kind of like you just did. It's –" He takes a short look at the watch right next to his bedside. "– half past five in the morning."

"Yeah, my back feels like I've been in this position for quite some time now," Lydia retorts and moves to a more comfortable position while grimacing.

"I'm sorry I didn't wake you up," he replies, although he knows that he wouldn't have woken up himself until now.

Lydia raises her eyebrows at that. "You most probably slept like a baby yourself."

"More like a baby with nightmares," he corrects her, looking down.

At that, the expression on her face changes for a second, but Stiles doesn't notice since he' is studying the fabric of his sheets all at once.

"What did you dream about?" She asks with sincere interest in her voice.

"Just about the Nogitsune laughing in your faces and me being trapped inside my own body, not being able to do anything."

Biting her lower lip, Lydia looks a little lost. "I'm sorry," she says after a moment of silence.

Now it is his turn to frown. "Why should you be sorry?"

At that, Lydia gets up without hesitation and sits down next to him. Stiles can almost feel the heat radiating from her body. She is so close all of a sudden.

"I'm sorry we can't help you," she continues, looking down at her hands resting in her lap. "I'm sorry _I_ can't help you."

"But you _are_ helping me." The reply comes almost too immediately. "Every single one of you helps me with being at my side every day, caring about me – what my mind closes away in some dusty, secret corner I can't reach at the moment is something entirely different."

It is hard to look up to her and hold her gaze but Stiles manages to do so. When did Lydia start caring about him that much? Or is it just guilt that drives her towards him? Deaton told him they shared a bond that only she would be able to bring him back from the dark place he and Scott and Allison had to go as surrogate sacrifices. She heard his voice in her head, found him. There _was_ something between them but he couldn't categorize it at all.

"It's still the worst feeling that I can't do anything to make you remember things so that you can get over them."

It is almost the same words she uses and it somehow warms his heart. Lydia is still looking at her hands which are almost clenched into fists by now. She almost appears like there is something making her act shyly. Her curls are blocking the view of her face and Stiles feels the urge of lifting his hand and putting them behind her ear.

"I'm sorry that I make you feel bad."

At that Lydia shakes her head – almost in a violent manner. "Don't say that. If there's one person that shouldn't feel guilty over something it's you."

Contradiction sparks inside him but he swallows the feeling. Right now it seems pointless to argue with the strawberry-blonde.

"That's what everyone's trying to convince me of," Stiles replies, still looking at her. "At least it's good to know that you still think I'm a good person."

There is a moment of silence where both of them look out of the window and watch the stars fade away and being replaced by the soft glow of the sun rising in about one or two hours.

"You haven't changed," Lydia comments finally and when Stiles looks up to her, the curls are gone and a small smile is plastered on her lovely features.

"Yeah, I haven't," he says, still staring at her.

It always is the same. Whenever he is with Lydia, there is always hesitation hanging between them. Then he is not the dorky, energetic guy but a calmer version of himself. A truer one. And with Lydia it is the same. Usually, she knows how to act around the other gender – tough and cunning. Incomparably confident of her looks and skills, but always wearing a mask. With Stiles, her walls seem to crumble a little and she gets softer. Hell, he has probably seen her cry more often than Jackson. He is the only one that acknowledges her intelligence. He is the only one that knows her insecurities because sometimes he catches her tracing the scar on her neck with her fingers, looking scared and broken. But through all their moments they never really act without hesitation, they always _think_, they never just _do_. Even when she kissed him to stop his panic attack, even then she thought of the most successful solution to the problem at hand.

Yet, this is the first time she doesn't act without thinking about it first.

Her arms are around him so fast he can't remember seeing her putting them around him.

It is taking him a few heartbeats to react and when he does her hands are clutching his shirt. The look of surprise on his face must be priceless, but he can't see it anyway.

"I'm so glad you're alive," she whispers and then he feels her body rocking against his silently. "I'm so glad."

* * *

"You're free to go."

A confused crease appears on Stiles' forehead when he hears the words being spoken by Scott's mom.

"What?" He replies after a few seconds of perplexed staring at her. His eyes dart around the room to find someone who will yell 'Ha, punked!' at him but there's nobody in the same room besides himself and Melissa McCall.

"The doctor who did a check on you a few hours ago instructed me to tell you exactly this."

Stiles is supporting his body with his elbows and lower arms – and still staring at the nurse. "Are you serious? Am I dreaming? Please tell me I'm awake, actually."

A warm smile appears on the brunette's face. "Stiles, you can go home."

"But …" He begins, but doesn't know how to finish the sentence. "What about the therapy?"

"Well, if you want to stay that's no problem either.

The answer to that comes faster than a gunshot. "No. I mean you were awesome with taking care of me and everything, but I would pref–"

"The doctor told me it was re-scheduled to tomorrow so that you can get home safely and recover one more day. You seem to be able to walk again without help, so that's a good sign. Just get the hell out of here," Mrs. McCall interrupts him with a laugh. "I already called Scott. He should be here shortly."

* * *

Sorry again for the longer break, I hope the next one will be shorter and I plan to do so. What do you think? Thank god, Stiles stays human, right? Thanks again for your lovely comments! I'd love to hear back from you.


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